


l_st

by MiniInfinity



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 15:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11603682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniInfinity/pseuds/MiniInfinity
Summary: Soonyoung's and Seokmin's lives fill in the word between the letters.





	l_st

**Author's Note:**

> there's like...almost smut at one point of the story, but i think you'll know when you see the word lmao  
> there's also an incident of injury and yeah. so just in case you don't want to read it. it shows up in "last"  
> 

_lamppost: noun_

_a post, usually of metal, supporting a lamp that lights a street, park, etc._

 

Night time welcomes Seokmin out of his part-time job after school and into dim streets. He folds the apron over his arm as he walks down the sidewalk and fixes the strap of his backpack clamping onto his shoulder, takes occasional glances down at the black form following his feet before yellow light fades out from earshot. He heads for the bus stop across the street and at the end of the block from the shop, a white light flickering under glass and metal of the stop, and a small plastic bag of graphite refills and sticky notes he's been needing to get swings from his fingertip. Discounts at the stationary store he works at are great and lifesaving, especially nearing final exams. He didn't believe it when Seungcheol advised him when he brought in his application, and he thinks he was a fool back in the day.

 

He counts the coins in his pockets, some leftovers after ringing himself up before locking the shop at the corner, and enough coins pass under the pad of his thumb tells him that he doesn't have to walk the rest of the night home.

 

It's the wavering breath from somewhere along the sidewalk that stops his feet from stepping any further, a thick swallow of a sob that just won't go down, a second shadow that passes beside him. He looks down, at his watch ticking close into ten-thirty, tells himself that it won't hurt to see it for himself.

 

A shivering body slumps against the bottom of the lamppost, one hanging light away from the crosswalk to the bus. Curled into himself, Seokmin almost steps back, pretends he never heard the boy in the first place, and walks away. The boy starts to wipe his eyes with the back of his hands, rough swipes from the edge of his uniform sleeve against pink eyelids. Yellow lamplight paints his skin a sorrowful yellow against the black, like a second layer of flesh he just can't get rid of.

 

So Seokmin kneels down in front of the boy, lifts a hand and guides it up to the boy's arm. He recognizes his school colors on the wrinkled necktie constricting the boy's fist, and it stirs discomfort in Seokmin to kneel in front of someone sitting in senior uniform.

 

"Hey, do you want to talk about it?" Seokmin asks, because asking if the boy is okay should be the last question in mind and out of his mouth.

 

The boy shakes his head, refuses to loosen the grip of the necktie or even look up at Seokmin. "N-no," a ragged inhale, "it's fine," shoves a cry back down his throat, "just-I'm so sorry."

 

Seokmin drags his hand up to the necktie, wants to unwrap it and hold onto the boy's trembling palms. "For what?"

 

"I'm just wasting your time. You should get going." The boy snaps his wrist from Seokmin's grip and takes his hands closer to his chest. "You have a life somewhere," is a whisper more to the boy's knees than towards Seokmin's ears.

 

Seokmin shakes his head and drops his hand to the boy's knees. Tension eases away from the boy's leg one aching fiber of muscle at a time. Seokmin plants a flat palm next to the boy's hip to steady himself, biting his lip once to stop himself from groaning at the pebbles marking all over his palm. White lights and mechanical screeches shoot into the void, and Seokmin watches the bus drive past the bus stop ahead of him. He turns back to the boy, forgets about the change in his hands and slips them right into his pockets. Chimes of coins fill in for the bus trying to drive through a road bump. "So what? I just finished my shift and I have no class or work tomorrow. I have time, I don't mind spending it with you."

 

The boy doesn't talk, won't say a word after that, so Seokmin leans forward and lets his arms wrap around him. Chokes muffle into the collar of his shirt, tears dreading down warm expanse of Seokmin's neck, and he lets the boy cry.

 

"I just want to be okay," rings into the silence over and over again, and they're the only words he ever hears from the boy. He feels the boy digging his face into his neck a little harder, the side of his face fitting at his collarbone a little more in place like a new home, lips carding a warm breath across his skin.

  


_lost: adjective_

  1. _no longer possessed or retained_
  2. _no longer to be found_
  3. _having gone astray or missed the way; bewildered as to place, direction, etc._
  4. _not used to good purpose, as opportunities, time, or labor; wasted_



 

_Soonyoung: Seokmin where is your apartment_

 

_Seokmin: I thought I gave you the address?_

 

_Soonyoung: My gps sent me to an old rice farm_

 

The picture Soonyoung sends after is nothing like Seokmin's apartment building, none of the neighboring high rises and trees shedding off old leaves. None of the parked cars lining down the streets or children running across the playground. The rice farm treads around a rocky path, pokes of an old man plowing through calf-high water. The man's hand peeks just above tall brushes of green.

 

A shriek is the only thing that leaves Seokmin's lips and he checks the address again. He goes back to his other messages from other friends, scrolls through them a few times before finding the exact address from Mingyu’s older messages.

 

_Mingyu: Hey heres the address to where ill film my video project in case you want to come_

 

He wishes sending Soonyoung to his place is just as fast as pressing the call button, but his wish drops futile when Soonyoung answers the phone and Seokmin spits out apologies after apologies and Soonyoung interrupts every single one of them with, "Don't worry, I got this."

 

"You apologize more times than the amount of rice grains out here. Stop it, Seokmin, there's no need to be sorry," when Seokmin's voice starts to falter.

 

A quick search of directions and miles away remaining untouched from Seokmin's home, he figures that it will take Soonyoung around forty-five minutes to get here. He doesn't think much--actually, he doesn't think at all--when he shoves his shoes on and grabs for his wallet, runs out of his apartment and catches a bus heading close to the convenience store.

  


Seokmin returns to his apartment with three bags of Soonyoung's favorite snacks before the older maps his way up here, and when Soonyoung does arrive with a small smile, Seokmin hugs him so tight that Soonyoung starts pounding his fists at his back, breathes for him to let go. And Seokmin does, and he lets go of the tears in his eyes.

 

His mind starts to talk for him and he can't catch his words, but Soonyoung seems to understand every syllable, to be able to register strings of  _How did I fuck up that bad?_ ,  _I wasted your money_ ,  _I wasted so much of your time, Soonyoung_ ,  _How much is gas these days? Isn't it expensive?_

 

All it takes is Soonyoung's palms pressing onto Seokmin's cheeks, a tilt of his head down after a  _gosh, Seokmin, I'm older than you, yet I have to look_ up  _at you_. "It's nothing, Seokmin," Soonyoung's voice flattens and Seokmin watches his eyes flit below his eyes, then his nose. Seokmin's own eyes fall, instead, on Soonyoung's throat, when he swallows hard.

  


_laziest: adjective, lazier, laziest._

  1. _averse or disinclined to work, activity, or exertion; indolent._
  2. _causing idleness or indolence_
  3. _slow-moving; sluggish_



 

Seokmin taps his pen against the wood of the desk and leans back on his chair to stretch his arms above his head. Soonyoung decides to splay himself over Seokmin's thighs at that particular moment. Throughout the entire day, during this "study" session, this is the biggest and easiest opportunity that Seokmin offered. He lies on his side with his head on Seokmin's lap, drapes the rest of his body over the chair next to the younger, and tucks his hands under the side of his face.

 

Seokmin takes this moment to pat Soonyoung's back to get up, "Your uniform is gonna get ruined and you just have one more month of high school, while I still have one more  _year_. You can do this, Soonyoung."

 

Soonyoung sighs, rolls so that he's looking straight up at Seokmin and he can't stop staring at the sharp curve of his jaw, focused eyes on the paper in front of him, even his fingers, hard and stiff at the knuckles from exam stress, running through his hair.

 

Silence crushes so fast when the world seems to break. But it takes Seokmin's laughter straight through the shaking world and the definite grip of Seokmin's uniform for him to deduct that no, the world is not falling.

 

"Stop shaking your leg," Soonyoung nearly screams but stops himself when he remembers that they still haven't left the school's library.

 

"Not until you start on your homework."

 

Soonyoung sits back up and pulls the chair closer to him. He grabs a pencil from his backpack in the far corner of their study room. "Fine."

 

The hug Soonyoung gives sends Seokmin's heart pounding in his chest that steadies over turning pages of workbooks after he offered to treat him to ice cream if he gets through the last assignments for math and English.

  


_least: adjective_

  1. _smallest in size, amount, degree, etc.; slightest_
  2. _lowest in consideration, position, or importance_



 

Their first time out wandering in Seoul after solidifying arrangements for their dorms at the university, they crossed off everything on their to-go and to-do list-- _tip at least one performer at Hongdae, take a picture with a fish at COEX Aquarium, try not to buy anything at the COEX mall, buy Seokmin a souvenir_. _We’re not leaving Seoul anytime soon, Seok_ , written above an arrow pointing to the last task. All that remains untouched on their paper for summer vacation before officially becoming university students is the frozen yogurt shop near the campus.

 

"Hey, we should try all of the flavors," Soonyoung suggests as Seokmin opens the door for him. A ding of a bell above the two and a wall of air from the air conditioner rushes at his face and guides them straight for the stack of cups on the table.

 

Two cups barely holding onto fourteen of the shop's flavors sit at Seokmin's hands after Soonyoung shoves them at him, some sly way to get Seokmin to focus on holding the heaping paper cups and not at giving Soonyoung the perfect chance to pull out his card for the two.

 

"I'll pay next time," Seokmin promises once they sit down next to the glass wall.

 

Chromatic dollops in the cups remain untouched for a minute or two, Seokmin's hand hovering with a spoon and his mind deciding whether he should just start with the flavor closest to his favorite color or with the flavor that sounded the least disgusting, but Soonyoung takes the first bite into a pink one. He hums around the spoon in his mouth and Seokmin continues the humming with a spoonful of the green one. Soonyoung takes scoops of each flavor, humming into each one, but there's one in particular that has Soonyoung's spoon weighing heavier than for the rest of the flavors. A purple one, that looks like chunks of ice manage to form and stay, sends Soonyoung breaking into a song and leaving only a quarter of the flavor left for Seokmin.

 

Seokmin tries it, takes a tiny bit with the tip of his spoon in case Soonyoung wants to finish the rest, and pops it in his mouth. Sourness spreads all over his tongue from that one tiny dot of purple and he can't believe that Soonyoung loves this flavor so much. Seokmin scrunches his nose, pulls the spoon straight out of his mouth, and reaches for the water bottle Soonyoung swings around, all while sticking his tongue out.

 

A spoon still hangs from Soonyoung's mouth, eyes wider than before and looking for something wrong with Seokmin, and the "What?" from him is more of a "Wuah?"

 

Seokmin points his spoon at the daunting purple swish in the paper cup. "I think this one is my least favorite flavor."

 

Seokmin almost screams in the next second, when Soonyoung stares at him straight in the eyes, takes the rest of the purple gunk in one swoop of his spoon, and shoves it in his mouth, all without breaking eye contact without Seokmin.

 

"It's my favorite flavor," after pulling the spoon clean out of his lips with an obnoxiously loud pop.

  


_loudest: adjective, louder, loudest._

  1. _(of sound) strongly audible; having exceptional volume or intensity_
  2. _making, emitting, or uttering strongly audible sounds_
  3. _clamorous, vociferous, or blatant; noisy_



 

They don't know how they manage to survive their first year of college, but Seokmin offered to pay for a couple of hours at the closest karaoke place to celebrate finishing their last exams for the school year.

 

"Does beer make karaoke better?" Soonyoung asks as they flip through the most played songs in this certain room with one hand and a menu of the drinks available in the karaoke place in his other hand.

 

Seokmin starts off with a ballad, a slow song easing into something closer to heartbreak than a good memory blooming between the two of them. His hand etches softly across his chest, sometimes curling then uncurling when a certain second of the song is spent in falsetto piercing straight at his heart. But it all dissipates once the screen flashes his score of ninety-eight and he passes the microphone to Soonyoung.

 

He shakes his head, tries to get Seokmin's hands to accept the microphone back. "My voice is isn't as good as yours" is the loudest whisper over the karaoke machine's filler music.

 

Seokmin shakes his head this time and the tambourine won't stop jingling from his crown. "It doesn't matter." He takes the remote from Soonyoung's hand and he watches Seokmin change the speed to two times and pass back the microphone.

 

The microphone in Soonyoung's fingers hangs halfway between the two and he takes it back when he recognizes the starting blares of Daesung's "Look at Me Gwisoon."

  


_luminist: adjective_

_a style of landscape painting practiced by some mid-19th-century American artists, especially of the Hudson River School, that emphasized meticulously crafted realism and a technically precise rendering of atmosphere and of the effects produced by direct and reflected light_

 

An art museum might have been one of the last places they would agree to hang out with friends, but Wonwoo and Mingyu made a deal with them to pay the entrance fees if Seokmin and Soonyoung agreed to pay for lunch, so they don't see why not. But what they thought would be shuffling from one exhibit together to another ends up in splitting off into other sections of the museum.

 

From across the floor, Wonwoo starts going off and gesturing to this color or that tree on the painting. Mingyu, eyes focused somewhere lower than Wonwoo's eyes, nods along after Wonwoo tilts a head back at the taller.

 

"Hey," Seokmin nudges Soonyoung's shoulder while still watching Wonwoo lecture Mingyu, "we should try doing that."

 

They both should have known that they will do nothing close to what Wonwoo is doing. Soonyoung fixes invisible dusts off his shirt, juts his chin up, and points to a painting Seokmin doesn't think Soonyoung even knew was hanging there until seconds ago.

 

"That time, this era, this Luminist era, was on the rise," has Seokmin slapping a hand over his mouth to stop himself from destroying the serene concentration of other visitors. Soonyoung hurries over to another painting, to one of the sunset breaking through the sky. "The sunrise...I painted this because I was so in love with my wife, who I always call my sunshine." Soonyoung catches a glint of something in Seokmin's eyes, but he dismisses it and walks over to the escalator, to another exhibit on the second floor.

 

Soonyoung holds up a shaking fist into the air. "My wife had to pry the paintbrush from my cold hands in the dead of night to finally get me to sleep."

 

Seokmin glances at the black and gray streaks, fading monochrome of the artwork, pointing at the silver plaque of information besides the frame. He lets his laughter spill this time, lets all other visitors shift eyes to his hand clutching onto his stomach. "It says right here that you used charcoal for this."

 

They don't know how a couple of hours slipped by so quickly inside the art museum, but that's what Wonwoo says when they finally meet each other again at the entrance stairs outside.

 

"How was the museum?" Wonwoo asks, swinging his hand in Mingyu's a mere breath at a time. A gift bag on Mingyu’s finger is light against the wind.

 

"Soonyoung is immortal and had many wives telling him to stop painting so late in the night."

 

Soonyoung nods with a smirk, Mingyu asks how many wives Soonyoung had, and Wonwoo slaps his palm across his face and sighs.

  


_lightest: adjective, lighter, lightest._

_of little weight; not heavy_

 

Watching the soccer match live, they all decided, should happen at Soonyoung an Seokmin's dorm because apparently, they have the biggest television, most variety in snacks and ramen flavors. And they all know that the two don't sleep on the separate beds the university provides anymore, so one bed always has folded covers and fluffy pillows, almost like a guest bed in their compact room.

 

While the national anthem lulls in the background, Seokmin taps Soonyoung's shoulder and whispers into his ear, "Loser piggybacks the winner across the campus to morning class tomorrow?"

 

Soonyoung nods, hooks his pinky around Seokmin's.

  


Seokmin's legs are ready to give out when he remembers that Soonyoung's morning class is on the third floor of the main building and the thought makes Soonyoung wrap his legs around Seokmin's waist tighter, bring his ankles closer to Seokmin’s torso. Seokmin's pants start to heave louder and louder as he gets closer to the classroom. Soonyoung loosens his legs, ready to plant his feet back on the ground, but Seokmin hops in place inside the elevator and holds onto the backs of Soonyoung's thighs.

 

"It's okay, Seokmin, I can get off now."

 

"Don't worry, Soonyoung," another hop from the tips of his toes, "you're the lightest person I've carried."

  


_lust: noun_

  1. _intense sexual desire or appetite._
  2. _uncontrolled or illicit sexual desire or appetite; lecherousness_
  3. _a passionate or overmastering desire or craving (usually followed by for)_



 

Seokmin hopes that the motivation to study like he did in his last couple of years would come back to him, but Soonyoung sits diagonally from him at their shared table as he studies for his midterms, scratching his head and sighing hard and biting his pink lips. Sometimes, he hears the crumpling of paper and muttering of whatever subject Soonyoung slammed on the table. Other times, Soonyoung lets a tear drop, a sad and hollow  _plop_ onto his notebook, and slide down his notes before wiping his eyes with the back of his ink and graphite-tainted palms.

 

Seokmin hopes that the motivation to study like he did in his last couple years would come back to him, but here he is, sitting and studying Soonyoung instead. So Seokmin slides his papers, textbooks, pens off to the side, doesn't hesitate to let his study guides wrinkle and textbooks close altogether, and leans forward, lifts a hand to Soonyoung's cheek, and kisses him. He presses his lips harder and just when he's about to let go, thinks that he might have destroyed their friendship, Soonyoung's low moan into his mouth pulls him forward even more.

 

They don't know if it's Soonyoung's or Seokmin's chair screeching against hardwood, but pants into the air rings louder than the chair. It doesn't stop the two of them from stumbling back into the bed.

 

Soonyoung props himself up by a hand next to Seokmin's head, stares down at the moonlight shadow casting across Seokmin's face, before trailing a finger up Seokmin's thigh and flitting the bottom hem of his shirt in a tease. Soonyoung's fingers tremble as he lifts Seokmin's shirt up one painfully slow millimeter at a time.

 

"Is this okay?" once the bottom hem grazes past Seokmin's belly button, already has Soonyoung swallowing thickly. "Is this okay?" again when it reaches over his defined torso, keeps Soonyoung wondering when their room seethed so hot and humid into his lungs. "Let me know, Seokmin," after the shirt drops to the floor in a soft thump.

 

Languid dragging his fingertips across Seokmin's bare skin sends a shiver down Seokmin's spine, a shallow breath right past the shell of Soonyoung's ear. Soonyoung dips down and skims his lips across Seokmin's neck, a definite line skittering over his collarbone, up the vein of his neck, across his jawline. Seokmin tilts his head to the side, but Soonyoung stops himself from bringing his lips down harder and sucking on the skin, in fear that their friends would find dark stains on the flesh and start questioning. Seokmin flattens a palm and runs it over Soonyoung's back before impatient digits glide up to his head, grabs a fistful of his hair after asking if it's okay, makes sure that it doesn't hurt him at all.

 

"That's the last thing I want to do to you," Seokmin whispers into the dark.

 

Seokmin pulling Soonyoung's shirt off leaves him in a daze, reaching to cross his arms over his chest to cover himself up, but Seokmin skitters firm digits into the pale expanse of his chest and he brings his head up, catches Soonyoung's bottom lip between his teeth, and Soonyoung drags out another moan from the pit of his throat. When Soonyoung pulls away, he starts tugging the edge of Seokmin’s sweatpants, his exhales streaming heavy under the two.

  


Soonyoung is the first to wake up, and it's the first time in a while. He can't remember exactly when the last time he woke up before Seokmin was, but he knows for sure it happened before. He shifts on his bare stomach across the bed and pulls the sheets up to his shoulders to hide himself from boring eyes of the walls, from the scandalous peek away of slightly-parted curtains. He turns, faces a sleeping Seokmin with his lips open a crack and a gentle snore, a mere rumble stirring from his throat.

 

He brings a hand up to Seokmin, skims it down smooth and sun-kissed stretch of his naked chest, over a soothing heartbeat, before slipping his hand under his jaw. He runs a thumb over Seokmin's cheek, hums a good morning that doesn't reach the other.

  


_list: noun_

_a series of names or other items written or printed together in a meaningful grouping or sequence so as to constitute a record_

 

Seokmin smiles in relief whenever Soonyoung trusts him with their bi-weekly grocery list. The older always jots down a list of what to buy before it runs out and pastes it on the fridge. Seokmin keeps his grocery list next to Soonyoung's, even the edges of the papers brush when someone opens or closes the fridge, in hopes that he will accidentally take the wrong one. So when Soonyoung asks Seokmin to grab the grocery list this time, he yanks his list right off with a  _snap_ , folds it in half, and tucks it in his sweatshirt pocket.

 

Soonyoung asks for the grocery list and Seokmin's smile tugs higher than usual when he passes the slip of paper to him.

 

" _Fire Ramen, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, that milk candy with a cow_ ," Soonyoung mumbles to himself. The basket handle slides down to his elbow and Seokmin takes another basket just for himself. "  _Places to try while grocery shopping: The fish cake stall to the left of the grocery store_." Seokmin almost bounces at his feet as Soonyoung smiles up at him at the mention of the stall.

 

A light lingers in Seokmin's eyes, but the smile drops when Soonyoung pulls out his phone and swipes to a picture of a piece of paper, with the list of  _To Buy_ in Soonyoung's handwriting.

 

Soonyoung pats his back on the way down the aisle to the first item on the list, tucks his hand in the jacket pocket to return the list. "Don't worry, Seok. We'll go to the stall after we buy everything we need."

  


When they reach their dorm, Seokmin nearly drops the grocery bags at his wrists as he licks the soft serve vanilla dripping into the waffle cone.

  


_loneliest: adjective, lonelier, loneliest_

_affected with, characterized by, or causing a depressing feeling of being alone; lonesome_

 

There are moments where even though Seokmin offers, and promises, to listen to all of Soonyoung's troubles, Soonyoung doesn't take it. He understands, though. When he finds the older curled up on the couch and staring at nothing but the ceiling, fingers barely holding onto the edge of a cushion, Seokmin drops to his knees in front of him, brushes gentle fingers over damp fringe, and asks Soonyoung what happened. When silence greets them like an old friend, Seokmin tries his best to hug him, but he doesn't feel the shift of Soonyoung's head deeper into his chest.

 

So Seokmin takes his arms away and stands up. "Do you want to be alone?"

 

Soonyoung nods, eyes blank to the light above.

 

Seokmin leaves for their room, reads through two chapters for his literature class in the meantime. He reminds himself that Soonyoung needs times like these, and he remembers the nights where Soonyoung explained that he just wants to keep it to himself until he is ready to spill out his doubts and distress.

 

Seokmin does come back, though, with their blanket in his hand, and branches a leg over Soonyoung before easing his way between the back couch cushions and Soonyoung's body. He drapes the blanket over the two of them, and this time, Soonyoung turns his head into Seokmin's chest and cries. Seokmin holds him, keeps his arm loose around his waist, until the room no longer fills with deep sighs but lethargic exhales as Soonyoung drowns into a slumber.

  


_loveliest: adjective, lovelier, loveliest_

  1. _charmingly or exquisitely beautiful_
  2. _having a beauty that appeals to the heart or mind as well as to the eye, as a person or a face_



 

They swerve through groups of people, sometimes stopping to nod with their hands clasped and to thank each and every one of them for attending. The bright lights singe their skin and Seokmin catches the sweat beading under Soonyoung's gelled hair. Double glass doors open up to a balcony and it's the night sky that find them once again. They close the doors a slight and let chatter and music muffle through the crack they leave. Midnight breeze brings the two closer together, hunched shoulders over the balcony pressing them closer than they thought they would need to.

 

Their own chatter is punctuated by "I can't believe this is happening" from one of them and they repeat the sentence after every few words.

 

Seokmin stares at the hint of moonlight on Soonyoung’s ring without a blink. "I mean, we can be together without getting married you know,” Seokmin continues on after Soonyoung repeats the phrase for the fifth time since they closed the door. "I'll still love you all the same, even if we didn't get married, but getting officially married is  _it_." Seokmin takes their hands webbed together over the edge of the balcony railing. A band of hair breaks free from the hairspray and Soonyoung always tucks it back into place in the same band of black. Seokmin looks down on Soonyoung, watches one tear seeping down every other sentence that sparks between the smiles on their lips, and Seokmin always brushes his thumb over to wipe it off.

 

Seokmin doesn't tell Soonyoung to stop crying this time, like he would sometimes do, because this is the only moment where he is fine, where he is completely okay, with his husband crying like this. Because instead of a dark, slow drag of his eyes searching for a gaping hole in the ground to dig deeper, there's a mirror of the stars in his eyes whenever he looks up and Seokmin wants to wish on every single one of those he sees glossed at his eyes.

 

"Oh, my gosh, Seokmin," Soonyoung interrupts with a boom of his voice, echoes into the empty garden spread out in front of them like a storybook, and wipes his face with the handkerchief from Seokmin's breast pocket, "what if my parents ask about our honeymoon?"

 

Seokmin's eyes sweep from Soonyoung's eyes down to his lips and up to the curve of his hair parted to the side. "What if  _my_ parents ask about our honeymoon?"

 

Soonyoung shrugs, his head tilted to the side, and goes back to the stars, perhaps searching for the answer up above. "Honestly, I can't even think about a honeymoon. We never planned on a honeymoon, Seokmin. I just want to keep waking up besides you every morning or every night, or whenever my job decides the shift is finally over and sends me home back to you. I don't care about traveling far and spending a lot just to celebrate the fact that we are officially married because for years, you're the only person I ever thought about marrying, so now that it came true and we're standing here together with matching wedding rings, that's all I ask for and that's all that will make me happy."

 

Seokmin doesn't bother wiping the tears in Soonyoung's eyes, drips that keep sliding down to his jawline and shines the balcony one drop after drop.

 

A soft voice, higher and kinder than either of the two, takes over from behind them, "Those are the loveliest words I've ever heard from Soonyoung."

 

They turn around in a bask of orange light from the ballroom. They both look at each other, hands never letting go, wondering when exactly did Soonyoung's mother step outside or open the door. Almost like a porcelain doll, graced in silks of a creamy white over her shoulders, polished shoes refracting hints of orange.

 

His mother, indeed, looks like an angel.

 

Soonyoung starts rubbing the handkerchief at his eyes and Seokmin's head tips off in laughter, hugging a bawling Soonyoung, running his hand over the back of his neck as he sets his chin at the crown of Soonyoung's head.

  


_last: adjective_

  1. _occurring or coming after all others, as in time, order, or place_
  2. _most recent; next before the present; latest_
  3. _being the only one remaining_
  4. _final_



 

The sun beats down dry and solid into their vision, nearly blocks the view of the field from the middle of the bleachers more than the moving heads of other supporting families in the crowd. Seokmin's palms sweat over his shorts and Soonyoung and their daughter's hands decide to forget about Seokmin's hand in favor of their owns.

 

Every few minutes or so, their daughter pokes his arm, thigh, cheek, forehead for the snack bag under his seat and she and Soonyoung would sit back with chips in their mouths and yogurt swishing in their hands. Teeth gritted when their son’s team stands a mere second away from winning this match. Cheers of a foal when the opposing team plays dirty. Groans of frustration when the referee raises a yellow card on their son, her twin brother, for something they didn't even know was possible to call out on. Seokmin thinks that their daughter and Soonyoung are most similar at their son's soccer matches.

 

Their daughter leans over to Soonyoung and whispers, or as close to a whisper she can squeeze out through arguments of her brother's teammates against the referee, "My friends and I made a bet that he'd score the tie-breaking goal."

 

Seokmin shakes his head, more towards the bet than the fact that their daughter isn't a good of a whisperer than she should be, just like Soonyoung, "You shouldn't bet on your brother like that."

 

There's still a chance, they know, despite Seokmin shaking his head at Soonyoung asking how much of a bet their daughter placed, because the score has been frozen at two-two with only four minutes remaining.

 

Not even a split second passes when Soonyoung stands straight up, stomps a foot into the bleacher, points a finger at the ground, and demands for her to "better ask your friends to get their cash ready." Eyes start narrowing towards Soonyoung, probably the only spectator standing at the moment besides parents heading off to buy more snacks for hungry children. It's not even just the rest of the audience watching who are staring at him; their son's team and even the opposing team are all spotting Soonyoung at the bleachers. Soonyoung drops the faux anger, smiles, and turns back the field. He waves at their son, who waves back with a laugh weakening his hand, and calls an amazing job to the teammates their son has brought home before.

 

Soonyoung sits back down, runs a hand through his hair, and glares at their daughter. Seokmin pats her back when he thinks she let the drinks go down the wrong pipe.

 

"The yogurt," she chokes out, nearly kicks her foot in the air and straight to the hair of the man sitting in front of them.

 

Seokmin wonders where she got that from, but Soonyoung mutters a, "Seokmin, why did you teach her that?"

 

"Yeah, that's what happens when you bet on your brother."

 

"Dad, please," after a couple of long coughs to clear her pipe, "ten bucks on my brother isn't so bad. He made a bet on me that I'd get the highest score in the English exam."

 

"Well," Seokmin pauses, staring blank out into the field because he remembers her brother telling him, only him, about the bet after one practice, "you did."

 

"Seokmin, wait," Soonyoung's voice is quiet enough to stop the two from talking. He gets up from his seat and scowls before reaching over the two to push Seokmin's shoulder and get him to stand up.

 

"What happened?" from the person behind them.

 

Seokmin and their daughter turn down to the field, where a circle starts to merge around white and blue uniform on the green. Over crowds of spectators trying to look towards the same direction and sometimes teammates and coaches pushing out of the way, a long red board makes its way down the field.

 

"What's going on?" besides them, the parents of their son's friend they recognize after repeating the question with a  _Soonyoung? Seokmin?_

 

It's been a long time since their hearts dropped all at once, a sudden pull of their steps closer to the stairs and through to the fences before they even catch the brutal sight of their son lying in front of the goalpost, bare movement of his chest the only thing coming from him and assuring them that he is still alive.

 

"Why is he on the ground?" loud from young boy's mouth.

 

Silence sweeps throughout the audience but not as fast as it takes for Soonyoung to finally reach down the flight of stairs and start his way over the wired fence. Seokmin grabs onto the back of Soonyoung's flannel, brings his husband close in his arm while pulling their daughter behind him.

 

"They're opening the gate for us," Seokmin tells him, and Soonyoung squeezes through the small gap of the fence and runs into the field.

 

Seokmin keeps a hold of her and and it's been years since he last held a trembling hand of hers. "Dad, what happened?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"What's wrong with my brother?" is more of a cry than a question for him.

 

"I don't know."

 

A couple of tugs of her arm down the field gets her going, assuring her that he will be okay after she hesitates, "I don't want to see him like this."

 

He finds the back of Soonyoung kneeling down next to someone in a white polo and watches him set a hand on their son's calf on the ground.

 

After a shift of their teammates out of the way, more space for the medic to bring in a first aid kid, his knees barely keep him upright when he hears hard, shallow breaths wheezing from their son, eyes still and shut.

 

"...after he collided with the goalkeeper," the medic says, grabbing onto the foot-end of the stretcher. "An ambulance is almost here."

 

A person with foamy gloves sits on the ground with his head in his hands. The goalkeeper's shoulders shake against a whistle of air and mutters of  _no, no, no, it's all my fault_ streams from the net and breaks into the field.

 

Seokmin long leaves their daughter with Soonyoung to cross his legs and sit down next to the goalkeeper, brings an arm around his shoulder. "It's not your fault at all. He'll be just fine," Seokmin assures him.

 

The goalkeeper looks up with red eyes and a scratch runs deep under his chin, blood evaporated brown and dry in one clean line towards his ear. "If I didn't run into him," an unsteady inhale, "if I just let him score the goal, this wouldn't have happened."

 

"He'll be okay. These injuries happen a lot." Seokmin runs his palm over his back before leaving a firm, yet comforting, grip on the boy's shoulder. "He wouldn't blame you. Accidents happen, and my son would never want you to feel guilty."

  


After mutual agreement with the ambulance driver, they decide that Soonyoung should be the one who sits in the ambulance, while Seokmin drives with his daughter to the hospital. Seokmin doesn't think his husband would be good behind the wheel, reminding himself of the one time when their daughter came down with a dangerously high fever as an infant and Soonyoung barely swerved past the cars on the freeway. Seokmin remembers gripping onto the car seat so hard that indents linger to this day on the plastic handle. Seokmin has always been a good driver, their daughter perks up when the driver asks who will drive Soonyoung's car to the hospital, between tears and a wracked sob.

 

At a stoplight, Seokmin takes her hand, "It will be okay. Your brother will be okay."

 

At the cars breaking way for the ambulance and Seokmin trailing directly behind, "Promise me, when you see him after all of this, you won't cry. He cries the most when he sees you cry, too."

  


This is their first time as a visitor in a hospital with only one of their children between their hands and their son stirs in the bed when Seokmin pops his head in with a smile through the crack of the door. Soonyoung's head follows right above him, and their daughter's head hovers under Seokmin's chin.

 

"We brought cake," she cheers as she dangles a white box with a blue ribbon.

 

Once the family settles around the bed, sometimes Seokmin slapping Soonyoung's finger off to get him to stop asking  _what this thing is?, I wonder what this thing does_ , tears from their son starts to fall on the icing. Seokmin slaps off the urge to send their daughter outside, knowing all well that she wouldn't and that she shouldn't see this. But it stops all at once, with a piercing inhale, when he whimpers about how much his chest hurts.

 

"Is this the last time I get to play soccer?" he asks, faint against whirring and beeping of machines around him.

 

"Recover first, and we'll see," Soonyoung answers softly, leaving a palm on his knee.

  


_longest: adjective, longer_

  1. _having considerable linear extent in space_
  2. _having considerable duration in time_
  3. _extending, lasting, or totaling a number of specified units_



 

Their old leather couch sports a few scattered rips and stains, but it doesn't age like Seokmin and Soonyoung. Two hands, wrinkles of time on every centimeter of flesh, rests on Soonyoung's lap. Their son's dog naps on Seokmin's lap, and Soonyoung bickers that the dog has always loved Seokmin and hated him, sometimes barks at him for standing there.

 

Their granddaughter perches in front of Soonyoung, lets her head rest against his knees and her hair spread on his lap. One thing he can never fail to brag about to Seokmin, though, is the fact that their granddaughter loves him more than Seokmin. He wishes she loves the two equally, but her hands cling onto Soonyoung's jacket more times than Seokmin. But Seokmin fires back, shows off the jumps of their grandson's steps whenever he runs right into Seokmin's arms.

 

Their grandson sits across the coffee table, behind a box of some European chocolate from the stash that Seokmin and Soonyoung hide from their grandchildren’s parents, their own children. He points at a square one with a swirl at the center. "Can I eat this one?"

 

"Of course," Soonyoung gestures at the entire box, "you can eat them all if your cousin doesn't want them."

 

They glance at their kids sitting at the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in their son's hand and a pack of crackers in their daughter's, as they talk, catch up, share some stories that they were never there for but silently wish they were, like old times.

 

"Grandpa," their granddaughter leans her head back and looks up at Soonyoung. Soonyoung brushes a soft palm over her forehead and sweeps off her bangs to the side. "This is the longest love story I've ever heard."

**Author's Note:**

> ah yes, i'd like to thank dictionary.com and google again for the definitions  
> i love doing these. if you haven't tried out the meanie one i did, [here it is c:](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11379738)  
> anyway, i hope you enjoyed this!


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